Greetings

I love to travel. It isn’t about geography. It’s all about the social studies. The world is a great big mall and I get to people-watch. And, for your information, I had the highest mark in Social Studies eight years running at St. John’s School. Eight years, folks. Anyway, back to social studies and travelling. I just got back from an epic trip to British Columbia. Vancouver is my home away from home. I used to have designs on moving there permanently, but after this trip I have lost my enthusiasm for cross-country migration. Nope, this trip left me sort of sour on the notion.

Don’t get me wrong, British Columbia is a beautiful province. The scenery, outside of the city of Vancouver, is breathtaking. But, it isn’t the geography. It’s the social studies. Why would I want to move across the country to a place fraught with social issues? British Columbia is a page out of the book of “We can’t decide who we are, so we are everyone.” But, let me back up a few months. Back to my trips to Philly, Chicago, Boston and New York. Let me start there.

For some reason, each of those trips coincided with a “day” of some sort. We spent a Mother’s Day in Chicago. A Labour Day in New York. An Arbor Day in Boston. A Memorial Day in Philly. And I just happened to notice how much Americans love to celebrate “days” and wave the flag and wish everyone a great “day.” They aren’t afraid to celebrate loudly and publicly and they don’t care if you aren’t a Mother, a Labourer, a Tree or a Memory. It seems to be just one more reason to have a good day.

Celebrating Mother’s Day in Chicago, for instance, meant I was treated to a good old, unapologetic “Happy Mother’s Day” at least a dozen times throughout the day. Everyone from the transit cop on the train to the taxi driver to the gatekeeper at the ball park and hot dog vendor at the ballgame wished me a “Happy Mother’s Day.” I loved it. However, in true buttoned-up Canadian fashion, one of my travelling companions was so disconcerted by the motherly hoopla, she told the transit cop she wasn’t anyone’s mother. He laughed and said, “You might be someday.” Americans don’t apologize for good wishes. Ain’t no take-backs on spreading the joy of “a day.” In every one of the cities I have visited in the U.S., every holiday is a Hallmark Day. Happy Mother’s Day. Happy Father’s Day. Merry Christmas. Happy Easter. Happy Columbus Day. Happy Flag Day. Happy Hallowe’en. You name it, those folks are plumb happy to wish you a happy something or another. And, let me add right here, a lot of those good wishes came from folks who don’t look or sound like they’ve spent all of their lives on American soil. I love it. It’s as if the moment you’re born or are granted status, you get yourself a list of occasions to share with folks. What the H E double iced Presidents’ Day Cakes is wrong with that? I say, “Nothing.” But why is it so very difficult, here in Canada, to wish a happy anything to anyone? Why are we so afraid to offend someone with a “festive” greeting? Oops, sorry! I said “festive.”

So, being a fan of the study of being social, I asked around. One child of mine told me, “We’ve had political correctness rammed down our throats by our elected officials for years. We aren’t allowed to have greeting cards on our desks or even a hint of Christmas near our workspace. We’ve been brainwashed into thinking a ‘Christmas Sale’ or ‘Easter Special’ or Mother’s Day or Father’s Day, or whatever the occasion, will be so offensive to our newer Canadian co-workers they might rise up and file grievances or march out in protest or send an email to the Human Rights Commission.” I guess. Having worked for both federal and municipal governments, it’s true to say we’ve been taught to avoid “those kinds” of celebrations. And, it’s sad to say all of my children have learned to play the greeting wishes game as dictated by their respective employers. The brothers (oh, I’ve got brothers) agreed, we spend far too much time worrying if we’ve said something wrong and not enough time showing people how much we enjoy our events and occasions and holidays. Canadians have bought into New Speak.

Needless to say, no one wished me a Happy Easter while I was travelling or, for that matter, a Happy Non-Religious Celebration of an Uplifting Event. However, I was treated to my choice of a Festive Physical pat-down or Holiday Complete Bodyscan at airport security. I wished the security officer a “Happy Easter,” she snorted and told me to take my watch off and spread ‘em.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca